


Dinner Date

by BoxWineConfessions



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Otabek is lonely international student that watches them, Yuri is a broke college student that does mukbang videos, internet celeb au, mukbang au, otabek likes those asmr noises, otabek watches eating videos, youtuber Yuri, yuri does eating videos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-08 21:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11655231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxWineConfessions/pseuds/BoxWineConfessions
Summary: “Hey guys,” Yuri smiles sheepishly into the camera and reaches out of focus. His hand returns to the shot with his tortoise shell hair clip. He pins back his bangs, and looks at the webcam. “As you all know I have four of my five classes on Tuesdays. I haven’t had time to eat today, and so I’m fucking starving,” and Otabek can’t help but notice the faint dust of a blush on his cheeks. Yuri is so cute when he’s talking about his class schedule. He wonders if he’ll talk about how he did on his Physiology exam, or if he’s still waitlisted for the Anatomy class.





	1. Appetizer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voslen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voslen/gifts).



“Hey guys,” Yuri smiles sheepishly into the camera and reaches out of focus. His hand returns to the shot with his tortoise shell hair clip. He pins back his bangs, and looks at the webcam. “As you all know I have four of my five classes on Tuesdays. I haven’t had time to eat today, and so I’m fucking starving,” and Otabek can’t help but notice the faint dust of a blush on his cheeks. Yuri is so cute when he’s talking about his class schedule. He wonders if he’ll talk about how he did on his Physiology exam, or if he’s still waitlisted for the Anatomy class.

Otabek has thought about messaging him to see if he needs a tutor. They could do it online, or hell, he’s pretty sure that Yuri goes to the same school as him. He’s seen him wearing this shirt with the school colors, and has mentioned a professor that sounded vaguely familiar. Plus, he’s made it through his first year of med school and he knows that content really well…On the other hand, he understood how sad it made him seem. He’s just some lonely guy on the internet, watching a cute boy eat.

The fact of the matter is, Otabek hasn’t been home since his sophomore year of undergrad. He had to do summer research experience in order to look good for medical school applications, and then once he got into medical school he had to get top marks on all of his exams, and now he’s gearing up for his clinical experience, and he has to work on the last few manuscripts from his research internship…

Otabek _is_ that lonely guy on the internet. But, the reason he got into this state is worth it. Right? Lonely on the internet Otabek is the future Dr. Otabek.

Otabek turns his attention back to the screen. “Okay, so today I’m doing my favorite. I spent all weekend baking pirozhky with my grandparents. Yuri pulls a large Pyrex dish with rubber lid onto the screen. He undoes the lid with a pop. “I also have some leftover Borscht. I had to freeze it because I made too much last weekend, but it should be good.”

Otabek can see the deep rich red color of the stew. It does look really good. Far better than his own sad dinner of boiled chicken and steamed vegetables. His mother did send him a rice cooker. Maybe he should make some brown rice tomorrow to change things up.

Otabek waits for Yuri to take a few bites of food before he digs in. Yuri smiles as he eats, and inevitably, he can’t contain his excitement and starts talking with his mouth full. “My grandpa makes the best Pirozhky. Like, the best. I have his recipe and I follow it exactly, but it’s never this good.” He takes a few more bites nearing the center of the Pirozhky.

By now, Otabek himself has wolfed down half of his first chicken breast.

“So we have regular meat pirozhky.” Yuri shoves the half eaten bun to the camera. He drops the bun and picks up another. He nibbles at it gingerly. “Here we have some katsudon Pirozhky.” Yuri explains excitedly. He flashes the inside of the bun, and there are bits of fried egg, and meat, and sticky white rice. “My friend, well not really my friend, this really fucking annoying guy I know is from Japan. He makes this food Katsudon? I did that in one of my first shows.”

Otabek remembers that one. He’d just found Yuri’s channel, and started watching the episodes in between classes. Usually he’d be having a snack. Apples with peanut butter, or a cliff bar. Eating with Yuri just seemed natural over time.

“I’ll have to do Japanese food again sometime maybe,” Yuri says as he eats. “Let’s try some of this borscht.”

Yuri raises the bowl directly to his lips and takes a long slurp of the broth. Otabek _loves_ the sound, and so he presses pause, and drags the progress bar on the video back a few seconds and listens to the slurp again.

Yuri pulls away from the bowl with a satisfied smack. “Oh, I wonder if I have sour cream.”  There’s a quick cut, and then Yuri is putting a large smooth dollop of sour cream onto the top of his soup. “Much better,” Yuri says with a smile. “So,” he takes a few bites of borscht, and Otabek can hear the squeaking noise of crisp cabbage against his teeth. “Guess who got an 87% on their physio exam? This fucking guy.”

Otabek listens to Yuri talk about his exam, and his cat, and his grandfather’s recipes. Towards the end of the video, Yuri signs off differently than usual. Usually he provides his PayPal and Venmo information. Otabek knows this, because he’s been giving Yuri money for almost a year now. It’s the least that he can do since Yuri’s made him feel less lonely. Today, he says, “I’m looking to try new foods, so if you have any good ideas let me know.”

Otabek immediately tabs over to Twitter, and pulls up Yuri’s page. He considers for a moment whether or not he should @ him, or if he should send a DM. There are lots of unique Kazak foods. He opts for DM.

* * *

Otabek checks Twitter at 6:00 AM when he’s jumped onto the morning train. He likes to get to campus early, before his office mates come in and he can’t get any studying done. He has a DM notification and for a moment his heart does flip flops. It couldn’t be.

It is.

_"Mare’s milk? Fermented mare’s milk? That’s super fucked up._

_But._

_I recognize that profile pic. You’ve given me a LOT of money on Venmo."_

Otabek promptly melts into a puddle on the train.

Otabek gets another DM at dinner time. There’s no video to watch since he’s already seen this week’s, but somehow those eight little words are infinitely better than a thirty minute video.

_“Where the fuck do you buy this shit?”_

Otabek responds, “ **there’s a Kazhak grocery store in St. Petersburg, on** **Prosveshcheniya. I’m actually going to med school here. I could take you?”**  It’s too eager, and he knows it.

_“Ehhhhh. Sounds like a great way to get a skinsuit made out of me. You understand right? I’ve had some bad incidents.”_

Otabek knew it was a stretch. Yuri had an incident last year with a follower who was sending him messages about his personal information. ” **I understand. Avoid the hot food bar. Everything else is good.”**

* * *

 

 “Okay so, first things first. If anybody else says a goddamn thing about how I’m holding my chopsticks or whatever,” Yuri reaches for a hairclip. This one is glitter pink and plastic. “You’re getting fucking blocked.” Yuri pulls his hair back into a quick messy bun. “Don’t fucking at me. Okay?” Yuri pulls a few bottles of Kumis into view. The glass bottles clink together.

“So, this really hot but kind of weird,” Yuri winks at the camera. “Yeah, I stalked your Twitter. Insta too…”

Otabek rewinds the video and watches it again. Hot? No way.

“Guy suggested I do Kazhakh food. I guess he’s an exchange student? Anyway, Otabek I hope you like this. Maybe we’re eating the same thing tonight.”

Otabek is suddenly very upset that he didn’t consider buying some of the foods that he suggested to Yuri before watching. He pauses the video, grabs his keys and his coat and hopes that the grocery is still open.

* * *

 

Otabek gets back to his apartment ninety minutes later. He’s got a bottle of Kumis, and Kazhy sausages, and going against his own suggestion, some kuyrdak from the hot bar. It might not be identical to what Yuri’s got, but it will be similar. God, he’s lonely.

Otabek hits play on the video.

“Okay, so this is fermented horse milk. Which sounds gross. I wonder if he likes it?” Yuri uncorks the bottle and takes a cautious sip. “Okay actually it’s not from a mare, because mare’s milk is rare. So it’s just regular fermented milk.” Yuri takes another drink. This one is larger.  “It’s not bad really.”

Yuri puts the uncapped bottle of kumis aside, and fires up his electric wok. “Okay, so we also have my favorite. Some offal meat. We have heart, liver, kidneys, all that good shit that-“ on screen Yuri’s interrupted. His cat walks in front of the camera almost knocking over the bottle of kumis. “Fuckin Potya, what the shit?”

The cat meows harshly. “You want this? I don’t think you want this.” Yuri takes another drink and then upends the bowl containing the organ meat into the pan. It sizzles loudly, and so Otabek opens his container of organ meat. He watches Yuri move the food around the pan as it sizzles and it pops. “It’s a little much even for me.” Yuri says, but he keeps drinking. “So, to that we’re gonna add some onion. I bet some pepper would be good in this, but guess it would be shitty to ask for suggestion and then just be like, “okay I’m gonna make this thing completely fucking different.” Actually, I always get really shitty when I see comments on recipe pages online like “AWFUL ONE STAR, I didn’t have lemon juice so I added half an apple, I’m doing keto so I didn’t make the crust, and I’m out of eggs so no meringue, worst lemon meringue pie ever.”

The cat walks back into the shot, and all but sticks her face into the sizzling wok. “Jesus fuck Potya, don’t make me put you in the other room.”

There’s a scene cut, and Yuri takes the camera and tilts it downward. “So look who got her own dish of kumis?” the cat is face down in the liquid and seems to be enjoying it thoroughly. “She’s fucking purring. Anyway,” Yuri readjusts the camera. “As you guys know, I still can’t decide what I want my major to be. My grades in my science classes are good, so I’ll probably get into the nursing college, I could do pre-med, but like.” Yuri pops open another container. It looks like a large piece of shelpek. Otabek pulls a piece out of his own container and nibbles at the corner. “I really fucking like dancing. I don’t know. My grandpa worked in a factory his whole goddamn life. His knees are busted and his back aches, and he just thinks that going to school is enough. I just feel like rich kids have help with this kind of shit?” Yuri says as he makes himself a heaping plate of kuyrdak. 

Yuri starts crunching on onions, and so Otabek moves onto the offal meat.

Yuri works his way through a plate of kazy and when he’s all done he pats his stomach. “I’m so full, Otabek.”

Otabek was mid sip of kumis when Yuri says this. He shoots milk out of his nose and onto his screen.

* * *

Otabek spends a good twenty minutes trying to find the _right_ video. He’s very particular at this point, and won’t watch just anything. His usual search terms yield nothing but videos that he’s already seen before.

 _Petite camboy swallows cum_ seen it. Would watch again, but he _just_ watched it last night.

 _Beautiful blonde takes cock from daddy_ the boy in the video is _hardly_ a blonde and it annoys Otabek.

 _Pretty blonde twink first time on camera_ meh.

He could…No, that would be really weird. But…the way that Yuri slurps the broth in that _one_ episode.

Against his better judgement, Otabek queues an episode and skips forward to the part where he starts slurping on long, fat udon noodles. He keeps too many in his mouth, and slurps on them loudly until his cheeks bulge.

Otabek palms himself through his boxers. The feelings of shame rapidly fade, as he’s consumed by the sound of Yuri slurping, and he becomes transfixed on the sight of the curve of Yuri’s face, and the way that his throat constricts when he swallows.

Once he’s properly hard, Otabek tabs over to the other video. The most recent video. He jerks himself roughly, and skips to the end. He has to wait for the video to buffer, but the end result is worth it. He pauses it, and waits for him to say it, “I’m full, Otabek.”

Otabek slams pause and drags the progress bar backwards. He plays it again. “I’m full, Otabek.”

Again, “I’m full, Otabek,” and then Otabek’s coming with a loud and undignified moan into his hand. His name is in the back of his throat, like a cough, “Yuri.”

He Venmos Yuri twelve thousand rubles after he cleans up with a tissue.

* * *

_“Did you eat kuyrdak with me?”_ Otabek drops his phone in the sink with the water on when he sees the message.

 **“Maybe.”** Otabek keeps it short, he wants to appear as normal as one possibly can when you jerk it to a stranger’s mukbang video and tip them decent sum of money.

_“Must’ve been good for 12k.”_

Otabek returns from class two hours later to another message.

_“Medical school? I did fucking stalk you to make sure you’re not gonna skin me alive. I guess you technically could right!?”_

Otabek doesn’t respond. Yuri double messages. “ _I’m gonna blow up your DM’s with questions. I think I’m having my quarter life crisis rn.”_  

Otabek gets another notification while he stares at the messages wide eyed and slack jawed.

_@YuriP followed you._

**“Wanna meet up for lunch?”**

* * *

 

“You know what this seems like right?” Yuri asks as he touches every single piece of bread in the basket before deciding on a whole wheat roll. Otabek grabs the other one despite the fact that Yuri has touched it.

“Uh,-“ Otabek scratches the back of his undercut and averts Yuri’s gaze. He still can’t believe this is happening. He feels like he already _knew_ Yuri, until he actually started getting to _know_ Yuri. He carries a Coach purse, and lives in the residence halls, and becomes more than willing to meet when Otabek offers to take him somewhere that isn’t an on campus dining hall.

“It’s like you’re my sugar daddy,” Yuri says with a grin.

“It’s not really that weird. I mean I’m not weird. I mean-“

“Is that what medical school does? Turns cute guys into awkward as fuck idiots?” Yuri crams half of the roll into his mouth. “Fucking relax,” and he spews wheat crumbs everywhere. “What kind of appetizer do you want?”

Yuri thrusts the menu into his hand. It’s printed on heavy cardstock, and only has a few options. “I really like the pears and camembert.”

“Alright,” Yuri plucks the menu out of his hand. “Let’s get that.” His smile is wide, genuine, affectionate, and just for him. Otabek can’t help but mirror it.  “Now, tell me everything you fucking know about passing physiology. It’s giving me a goddamn rash. Tell me everything about how you decided to go to medical school. Tell me how you found my channel. Just, tell me everything.”

* * *

 

 

 


	2. Entree

Otabek doesn’t want to rush forward. He enjoys getting close to Yuri, getting to know Yuri, and letting Yuri get to know him too. He hasn’t really let that happen since all his friends finished undergrad, and he traded parties for studying for medical school exams.

Except, it’s really hard not to rush forward and make a fool of himself when he’s in heaven. Yuri’s in bed with him, and hasn’t left since he woke up _in his bed_ that morning. Otabek managed to tear himself away to go out for coffee, and Yuri insisted he had to buy a French press by next weekend to avoid either one of them leaving the apartment. Then, Yuri made them scrambled eggs and toast. The rest of the time has been spent glued to Yuri’s side.

They’ve spent the rest of the day doing different things on different devices. Yuri has his tablet open alongside an open legal pad. He’s looking at recipes that are easily converted to the electric skillet set up he’s got in his bedroom. Furiously he jots down ideas and shopping lists.

Otabek has gotten a fair amount of studying done, and won’t have to worry so much about his quiz on Monday.

The only sound between them is the scratch of pen against paper, the click of finger against keys, or the occasional comment from Yuri, “maybe I should do a fondue episode again. Do you like those?”

“Eh,” Otabek decides that if Yuri is going to consult him about work in such a way, he should be honest. “I like noodles the noodles the best.”

“The slorp.”

“Yeah,” Otabek agrees. “The slorp.”

The hours tick slide by in a rustle of blankets and, and soft barely there smacks of lips. Eventually, Yuri says, “we were productive today.”  Then Yuri’s sitting up, and latching onto him, and breathing hotly into the place where neck meets shoulder. “We should get some snacks, then watch a movie or something.”

Otabek looks at the clock on his laptop. It’s barely 4:00, and usually he’d keep working until at least 7:00 or 8:00, but…He can’t say no to Yuri. “You mean, I should get snacks.” Otabek turns, and presses their mouths together in a quick peck. “What if I made grilled cheese?”

“I do want cheese,” Yuri says in a dreamy tone.

So, Otabek leaves the comfort of their nest for a second time, bound and determined to make Yuri the most acceptable grilled cheese sandwich ever. He _won’t_ burn it. He _will_ get it melted in the center. He _will_ remember to take the little wax paper slices out from between the precut slices.

* * *

Otabek returns to the room with four grilled cheeses stacked high on one plate and two cans of diet coke stowed underneath his armpit. He only owns two plates, and the other one is filled to the brim with leftover food from when Yuri made dinner last night.

When he nudges the door open with his hip, he nearly drops the plate. Yuri’s half leaned over the bed, as if he were reaching for the power strip that lives on the carpet wedged between hoodies that have one more wear, and jeans that should probably be washed. In Yuri’s hand is Otabek’s fleshlight.

Immediately, Otabek can feel his face flush red. His first instinct is to bolt outside even though this is his apartment. He thought he’d pushed it far enough under the bed that Yuri wouldn’t find it.

“Who’s this,” Yuri snorts. “Your boyfriend?”

Seconds drag by and feel like hours. “Uh-um,” Otabek finally stammers. “I mean,” should he try to defend it? It was normal right?

“Don’t fucking worry about it.” Yuri doesn’t let go of the toy. Instead he tilts it from side to side in curiosity. He sinks a finger inside the hole, causing a new wave of embarrassment to wash over Otabek. “I have stuff too.”

“Really?” Which makes Otabek blush even harder.

“Yeah. Lots of stuff. I have one of those plugs with the gems on the end…Hot right?”

“Yeah,” Otabek swallows thickly.

“You pretty much bought it for me. The Christmas cake episode.”

Otabek can feel the blood drain from his face, and in it’s wake is injected with raw hot want. Except, his feet feel bolted to the floor, and his arm feels weighted down by the burden of grilled cheese.

“Can I use this on you? It seems super fucking neat.” Yuri says as he tries to jam another finger into the hole.

“I want-to,” Otabek says in a too quick gasp, “see your toys too.” Although he’s straining against his sweatpants right now, he’d gladly stop everything, start the bike or jam himself onto the train to go back to Yuri’s apartment and get them.

“I _did_ bring it.” Yuri says nonchalantly, as if he’s telling Otabek about his day. “I _thought_ maybe we’d use it last night or something,” and he looks up at Otabek and throws him a smirk. “Otabek, put the goddamn sandwiches down.”

* * *

Yuri unzips the front compartment on his bag. The plug falls out and onto the carpet alongside a fistful of condoms, lube, and another few toys. Yuri wasn’t lying when he said he had all kinds of stuff.

Yuri takes the plug between his fingers, the flared base on one side and the plug on the other. The toy has a large pink heartshaped gem on the end. “Otabek,” Yuri’s mouth quirks into a smile. It looks feisty, dangerous. Then, Yuri is palming him through his sweats and kissing him open mouthed, and asking him when they finally part, “do you wanna watch, or do you wanna put it in?” But Yuri doesn’t let him respond properly. Yuri clambered into his lap as soon as he came back to bed. Now he’s all but pulled himself into Otabek’s lap. Yuri latches onto his neck and doesn’t let go. The wet hot pressure of his mouth short circuits something in his brain, and makes it impossible to respond. “You probably wanna watch right? Because you like watching me?”

“Yeah,” Otabek breathes finally. His chest is tight with anxiety right now. “That would be good.”

“Alright,” Yuri says with a certain kind of lilt, and a cocky half smile. “If you want to touch me just go ahead, just don’t use that,” Yuri says gesturing to his fleshlight. “I wanna use that on you.” Yuri punctuates his request with a kiss and slides out of his pajama pants.

Otabek swallows a thick lump in his throat as he watches Yuri uncap the lube and coat his fingers. “What if I did this and put it online?” Otabek can feel his stomach drop, and Yuri doesn’t let him respond. “Oh my god,” Yuri’s voice is neither sardonic nor laced with his usual bitterness. “I was kidding,” and Yuri’s kissing him and tenderly touching the side of his face with the same hand he poured lube into. “You look like a kicked puppy right now, please.”

Otabek winces at the feeling of the gel against his skin, and pulls away and wipes the lube off of the side of his face. “I don’t want to share you. That’s all. I mean I know you like doing videos, that’s fine obviously. I just... I would like to do things with you that are private…special.” Not alongside Yuri’s hundreds of thousands of subscribers.

“Of fucking course.” Yuri responds. Yuri kisses him gently. Otabek’s hands slide to Yuri’s side, and toy with the hem of his shirt.

Yuri slides out of his shirt, and looks Otabek, still fully dressed up and down. He opens his mouth as if he wishes to speak, but does not say anything. “You have lube on your hand now. You should help.” Then, without pressing the issue further, Yuri gets on his knees, turns around, and braces himself with one hand against the headboard. “At least hold me open. Kay?”

Otabek desperately tries to hide the fact that he parts Yuri’s cheeks with trembling hands. He’s got to get it together and at least be functional for his boyfriend. Yuri’s hole is pink, and tight, and there’s so much that he wants to do with Yuri. There’s so much that he hopes that Yuri can teach him. There’s so much that he hopes he can gain the courage to ask.  

Yuri circles his rim with his finger. He spreads lube across it and then Yuri presses a single digit inside.

The tense silence that hangs between them is broken by Yuri’s laughter light and airy. “You look so cute when you’re being all intense Beka,” and hearing Yuri call him _that_ is somehow just as good as the wonderful sight before him. Otabek snaps his gaze upward, and is met by wide smiling green eyes. “When your brow is all furrowed and you’re biting your lip. Like this is brain surgery. Don’t look at people like that when you do surgery.” Yuri presses at his rim with a second finger. “Only look at me like that. Deal?”

“Deal.” Otabek feels emboldened by Yuri’s desire. He moves one of his hands away from Yuri’s cheeks and circles Yuri’s rim.

“Do it Beka,” Yuri goads him. “I want you to.”

Otabek sinks a finger inside. Yuri feels so tight, that it seems impossible he could take anything more than a few fingers. Yuri feels so hot, as if he’s burning from the inside out. Otabek moves his finger around, testing how tight Yuri really is.

Yuri’s mouth twists into a grin. “That’s so good,” Yuri purrs. He takes one hand off of the headboard. “Wanna put it in?” He says gesturing to the plug. Otabek swallows thickly, but the words don’t come out. So Yuri just smiles at him and says coolly, like it’s no big deal at all, “it’s alright. I know you do.”

Yuri takes his finger out. Otabek does the same. “Okay.”

Yuri spreads his own cheeks wide now, giving Otabek the perfect view.

Otabek tests the weight of the plug in his hand. The metal feels cool against his skin, and so he rolls it in his palm a few times to warm it up. Then, he presses the tip at Yuri’s hole. Centimeter by centimeter, it disappears. Otabek desperately wants to ask Yuri if he’s okay, if he needs to stop, if he needs to slow down, but it all dries up in his throat and comes out as an almost painful moan.

Otabek watches the toy disappear into Yuri, and then pulls it out, watching him stretch against the flared part of the toy. Then, he pushes it back in. He repeats this several times, before Yuri gruffly interjects, “Alright, alright. I’m the one that wanted to jerk you off.” So, Otabek pushes it back in, and watches the pink gem on the end of the plug glisten.

Yuri turns over, and sits down, concealing the plug. Otabek doesn’t have time to complain. Yuri’s pressed up against him immediately. “Get rid of some of this goddamn.” Then Otabek’s suddenly quite aware that Yuri’s been quite naked, and he’s stayed very clothed.

He has _nothing_ to theoretically be ashamed of. He goes to the gym all the time, and tries his hardest to stay fit. It’s just that….

Otabek doesn’t have time to remain self conscious. Yuri’s peeling off his shirt, and tugging at his pants, and then as soon as the cool air hits his skin, Yuri’s frantically moving on to lubing up his toy.

“Wow, you’re like, really fucking big,” Yuri says grabbing him by the base of the cock. “This is so fucking cool.”   If Yuri weren’t _so_ into the idea, he’d try to ask Yuri to just give him a hand job, or maybe even a blow job. Instead, Yuri’s pressing him against the toy, and enveloping him in it.

The feeling of silicone makes Otabek think of how _hot_ Yuri felt. How he’d like to get to the point where he won’t use _this_ anymore because Yuri will want to fuck him. The tight suction is familiar, and eases the discomfort in the back of Otabek’s mind.

“Yuri,” he breaths hotly and reaches for Yuri. He pulls him as close as he can, so that Yuri is cuddled close, and half laying on his chest as he twists the toy and jerks it up and down his cock. “Yuri, please.”

“Please what baby?” Yuri laughs again. Then he’s kissing him all over, not just on the mouth but on the neck, and the shoulders. Then, Yuri’s readjusting their position. He climbs on top of Otabek, straddles his hips, and jerks him off.

“Please-ah-“ Otabek screws his eyes shut and grits his teeth desperate not to come too quickly.  Watching Yuri got him _so_ riled up that it’s difficult to contain himself. “Ah-Please kiss me again,” Otabek whines.

“Such a sap,” Yuri says. “C’mere.”

Otabek sits up. The fleshlight is jammed awkwardly between them. Yuri doesn’t skip a beat and keeps jerking him off while they kiss.

Otabek starts meeting Yuri’s thrusts with powerful snaps of his hips. It doesn’t take long for him to come into the toy with a harsh and desperate cry of, “Yura.”

Yuri kisses him through his orgasm. He pushes the sweat slicked hair away from his face, and smashes their damp foreheads together. “Yura huh?” He smiles. “I like that. I like that a lot. Usually it’s Yurochka. Yura is better.” Yuri pulls the toy off of Otabek’s cock. Yuri slides it over his own. “Do me now babe.”

For a moment, Otabek can’t do anything but think about how sloppy and messy Yuri’s cock is going to look when he comes into the toy, and has both of their come all over. He grips the toy, and charges forward, “Okay.” Otabek reverses their positions so that Yuri’s laying back against the bed, and Otabek is on top. He moves the fleshlight up and down Yuri’s cock, and presses at the end of the plug in his ass. He alternates these touches with playing with his balls and stroking the soft skin of his sac.

Yuri grabs onto his arms, and he can feel the sharp prick of Yuri’s nails against his skin. Yuri murmurs a stream of constant profanities each makes him blush harder than the one before, “ah fuck, Otabek. You’re so fucking hot. This feels so damn good. I’m gonna-I’m gonna cum Beka,” as Yuri says it, he pulls the fleshlight off of his cock, and wraps Otabek’s hand around his cock. He cums in thick spurts, and he’s so wet, and he’s so sloppy. It’s perfect. Yuri is perfect.

* * *

 

Yuri wipes them both down with Otabek’s discarded shirt. Then he gets up, walks to Otabek’s desk where he’d abandoned the grilled cheese sandwiches, and grabs the plate off of his desk. As he walks the few short paces, Otabek can see the pink jewel bob and wriggle between Yuri’s cheeks. Yuri bends in an exaggerated motion, and turns back to look at him over the shoulder. Forget the sandwiches. He wants more of Yuri.

“Otabek, tell me something. Be honest okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you a virgin?”

Otabek can feel his veins turn to ice, and for the second time he wants to bolt out of the room. But Yuri said to be honest. Yuri thinks his fleshlight is cool. Yuri hasn’t judged him for a thing. “Yeah,” he admits. “No time really…I mean I want it to be with someone special. No time to date.”

“I get it,” Yuri says nibbling on the corner of the sandwich tentatively. “No wax paper this time. Good job babe,” and then takes a big voracious bite.  “I just can’t believe someone as hot as you is a virgin. That’s all. Maybe I should’ve given you a more conventional first time. A handjob or something,” Yuri says between bites.

““Just because I haven’t done it doesn’t mean I don’t know that like stuff like this. ” Otabek purposefully chooses the one sandwich that he burned a bit around the edges. That way, Yuri won’t have to have it. He nibbles at it, and it’s not bad. Can barely taste the burned bits.  “I can’t believe someone would just sort of,” Otabek can feel the slow hot creep of a blush from his cheeks to his chest. Much like Yuri, he’s still very naked. “Accept the things I like.”   

“It’s fucking fine. Except,” Yuri snorts. “I’m shitty I’m actually feeding myself right now.”

“You’d want me to?”

“Yeah.” Yuri scoots closer to him and throws his legs over Otabek’s lap. Yuri shoves his sandwich into Otabek’s hand so that he’s holding Yuri’s half eaten one. Then Yuri plucks his sandwich from his hand so that Yuri’s holding his barely touched burned one.

Otabek tugs a piece of sandwich off, and watches the string of cheese stretch and get progressively thinner as he tugs. “Say ah,”

“Ah,” Yuri opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. Otabek puts the morsel of food onto his tongue. Yuri chews with his mouth open. “Now you.”

Otabek is glad to feed Yuri, but he’s less comfortable with the idea of Yuri returning the favor. However, he complies and opens his mouth. Yuri offers him a large bite of food, and Otabek accepts it.

While he chews, Yuri asks, “You wanna fuck after this?”   

 


	3. Main

“Hey fuckers,” Yuri strikes his best “tough guy,” pose and mean mugs for the camera. Otabek does his best to hide his quivering lip, but all too soon it melts away into an impish smile that he cannot conceal any longer. He tries, tries so hard to stifle the laugh that spills out of his mouth too, but it’s too late!

“Otabek, what the hell?” I’m going to have to edit that out now.

“You don’t want to call all of your followers ‘fuckers’ do you?” Otabek wraps his hand around Yuri’s waist. Cut off from the camera’s view, the touch is concealed from Yuri’s hundreds of thousands of subscribers, and all they see is Yuri’s scowl fading into a smile and a soft blush dust across his cheeks.

“Yeah, of course I do,” Yuri supplies. “It’s called being on brand.”

A lot has changed for Yuri in the past year. His channel hit three hundred thousand subscribers. He quit working his part time job at the café. He decided to switch gears completely, ditch medicine, and major in dance alongside multimedia studies. It will mean staying an extra year, but Otabek doesn’t mind. They’ll both graduate at the same time that way.

A lot has changed for Otabek too. He doesn’t come home from class exhausted and scarf down plain chicken, or protein shakes, or eat fistfuls of spring mix straight out of the container because he cannot remember the last time he ate anything green. He now has all kinds of good things to eat: curry, or blackened fish, or chicken marinated in spicy noodle seasoning packets with chili oil. He still comes home exhausted, but there’s something that makes it a little bit better now.

He doesn’t pull up videos of his favorite Youtuber and pick at whatever flavorless thing he’s got while Yuri eats enormous and delicious meals on screen.

Now, by some strange twist of fate (and Venmo transaction) his favorite internet celebrity is his boyfriend. He does his best to not rattle pans, or walk too loudly in their cramped St. Petersburg flat while Yuri tapes his mukbang. Tonight, he travels into uncharted territory as he cooks food for Yuri.

He’s still not sure how he feels about eating on camera.

“So a lot of you said you wanted me to do a video where my boyfriend cooked for me. So my boyfriend Otabek is here today. Say ‘hi Beka.”

Otabek waves to the camera.

“He’s shy.” Yuri explains. “Don’t call him Beka in the comments. Only I can call him that.”

“And my mom,” Otabek supplies softly.

“And his mom,” Yuri repeats. “Do you want to tell them how we met?”

“Um,” Otabek can feel his own face grow hot at the mention. Yuri always explains with a huff that it isn’t weird to meet people online these days. Otabek disagrees given the _specific_ context in which he found and became infatuated with Yuri.

“He’s shy,” Yuri repeats. He gives Otabek a quick peck on the cheek. On instinct Otabek squeezes Yuri tighter, forgetting for a moment that this was being recorded, and hundreds of thousands of people would see. He was nervous enough as it is being on camera with Yuri. Would people like Yuri less if they knew he had a boyfriend?

Otabek knew that this was foolish. First, Yuri talked about him on his channel all the time. Second, not everyone enjoyed his videos on the same level that he used to. If they did, he didn’t want to think about it.

“So last year I did my Kazhak cuisine video. You guys remember? It was suggested by one of my followers.” Yuri scoots around a bit so that he’s sitting with his back pressed to Otabek’s chest. Yuri threads their fingers together, and folds their joined hands on Yuri’s chest, showing the camera. “Well it was Beka. He was like, watching my videos for a long time. So he suggested I do Kazhak food. And I was like Kazhak food? I don’t know…But I did it anyway because he was cute, and because he was a huge fan.” Yuri’s tilted his chin upward to look at him. Yuri’s eyes are wide and wondrous, and looking at him and him alone. Despite dating for almost a year, and living together for five months, Otabek cannot believe Yuri Plisetsky is looking at him that way.

Yuri leans up and kisses him full on the lips. Then, Otabek can feel his tongue brush his lips. He has no choice but to let Yuri deepen the kiss and lap against his own tongue. On instinct Otabek threads his fingers through Yuri’s hair.  Yuri pulls back with a _smack_ and a blush. “We’ll edit that out in post-production.”

Yuri blinks at him a few times, before popping back into hosting mode. “It turned out we were going to the same school. So, we met up, and had lunch and he took me to this super fancy place. I ordered like three thousand rubles worth of food.”

“Four,” Otabek supplies. Under the desk, he pokes Yuri again.

“You ate half of that desert. Anyway,” Yuri says with a huff. “He was kind of weird, but he had a motorcycle, and he was cute, and he took me to nice places to eat. So, we started dating each other. He was so sad, he couldn’t cook at all. At first, I wouldn’t cook for him unless he came over and watched me and tried to learn.” Yuri beams. He reaches for his large purple hair barrette which is stored off camera, and pulls back his hair. “So today, Otabek is going to make for me the first thing I ever taught him how to make, which is….” Yuri’s voice trails off prompting him to speak.

“Hot soba noodle soup.” Otabek says. He smiles naturally as the words roll off of his tongue. It’s easy, when he remembers their second date, making noodles on Yuri’s student housing hot plate. “And um, a pickled salad. Radishes, carrots, some cabbage too. I guess I should make that first, right?”

It’s Yuri’s turn to loop his arms around Otabek’s middle. “Yeah.”

* * *

Otabek thought that eating on camera would be strange, but it isn’t. He listens to Yuri’s command of, “add more noodle Beka. Lots of noodles!” and then they dig in as soon as they’ve cooled enough to eat.

They talk about what they normally do, but it’s augmented so it’s like they’re explaining it to a friend or a family member. “We live in a big, nasty, communist apartment complex.” Yuri says when they talk about their living arrangements. “Flaking paint, and old radiator heaters.”

“It’s in a better neighborhood though,” Otabek explains. “Less crime.”

“More Asian markets too,” Yuri interjects.

“Close to the clinic.”

“Oh my fuckin god,” Yuri mashes his chopsticks into his bowl of soba. “Tell them about that thing you saw during rounds.”

“That’s not appropriate for eating.”

“There’s like, minimal pus in that story,” except Yuri says it with a mouth full of noodles, and so the syllables are smashed together. “Otabek has the best stories.” Yuri slurps on a particularly long noodle. His cheeks bulge.  “Otaek likes the slurping noises too. Don’t you?”

“Maybe,” he stammers. 

* * *

 

Yuri reaches up to the camera and turns it off. “You did really well,” he says leaning in to kiss Otabek softly. Although they hardly broke contact for the entire broadcast, either brushing their legs together, or holding each other underneath the desk, or sitting back to chest, Otabek feels like he’s touch starved.

Yuri tastes like vinegar and mirin. Yuri tastes far more delicious than the food that they just ate.

“Beka,” Yuri stretches his arms upward, and throws his arms outward, his motions are languid and graceful, catlike in nature such that they put Potya to shame. “I’m really full.” Otabek can’t help but seal his lips over Yuri’s again. While stretching, his sweater rode high, and he could touch just the softest swath of skin underneath. Yuri’s stomach felt soft and warm beneath his touch. “I’m kind of sleepy too.”

Otabek is hesitant to part from Yuri, but he knows that it’s needed if the night is going to move forward. He rises, and extends his hand to Yuri. Yuri looks up at him with half lidded, carbo loaded eyes. Yuri doesn’t so much grasp his hand, as he puts the floppy, handless sleeve of his sweater into his hand. Otabek grabs for Yuri’s forearm and pulls him upward, his fingers ghost over the soft fabric of his sweater.

Yuri flops onto the bed, and his sweater is rucked high. Immediately, Otabek’s gaze is drawn to the soft white skin of his belly. Otabek sinks onto the bed and runs his fingers over Yuri’s hot skin.  “I’m so warm,” Yuri says. They’ve been inside all day, and had the old radiators cranked high. Finally, after a day of numb toes and numb tips of the nose, they get warmth.

“It’s because you ate so much.” And Otabek presses his fingers into Yuri’s flesh ever so slightly.

“Fuckin’ stop” Yuri swats at him playfully. “I gotta stop doing mukbang, or I’ll get fat.”

“You’ve got to stop falling asleep for twelve hours right after, and actually go to the gym sometime,” Otabek supplies. He rubs Yuri’s stomach with the palm of his hand. He slides over Yuri’s bellybutton, and up his sides, stopping when he can feel Yuri’s ribs. “It kind of evens out when you forget to eat in between classes, right?”

“Maybe…” Yuri isn’t convinced. “Get these pants off of me. They’re really tight.”

Otabek hooks his finger into the waistband of Yuri’s jeans. “I’m surprised you didn’t just wear yoga pants like normal.” He likes the way Yuri hikes them up high after a large meal to conceal his swollen belly. Instead, he undoes the button, and then the zipper. He pushes them down Yuri’s hips as far as they will go, and waits for Yuri to cant his hips upward. Otabek pulls down his pants and his underwear, and then fights with the fabric when it’s bunched down his ankles.

“Fuckin forgot to change,” Yuri supplies.

Otabek glances at Yuri’s flaccid cock, but doesn’t touch it. There are other things he wants to focus on right now.

With the offending garments removed, Otabek leans in and kisses the soft downy skin of Yuri’s stomach.

“Beka,” Yuri threads his fingers into Otabek’s hair. “That tickles,” and he punctuates the statement with a soft giggle that makes Otabek’s heart skip a beat.

Otabek kisses just above his navel, and then on his side, and then just on the crest of his ribcage. Does his boyfriend know just how beautiful he is? Then, because he can, and because no one else can, Otabek touches the tip of his tongue to Yuri’s rib cage. He drags it downward, across Yuri’s stomach to the crest of his hips. He laps at his navel. He loves it when Yuri’s like this soft, and pliant, and full from a meal.

 Then, at risk of breaking the mood, he blows a long raspberry into Yuri’s stomach. Otabek hears nothing but the sound of wet lips vibrating soft skin.

“Ah, Otabek,” Yuri folds up in on him, and he artfully dodges a knee to the face. Otabek persists, and repeats the motion further up Yuri’s stomach. “Fucking quit it,” and then there’s faint, playful slaps on his back. ““I’m gonna fucking burp in your face if you don’t stop,”  and Otabek does it a third time before pulling Yuri’s sweater up across his collar bones, and latching onto one of his perfect pink nipples.

“Ah-Beka,” and Yuri’s tone melts from frustration to pleasure. He’s _always_ so sensitive here. “Beka,” Yuri repeats, and writhes on the comforter.

Otabek pulls off of his nipple, and watches it harden in the cool air. He gives the other the same treatment, and listens to Yuri curse him softly under his breath. “You’re so _mean_ to me.”

“I made you dinner.” Otabek smiles against his skin. “I want desert.” Only now does Otabek slide his hands between Yuri’s legs. Yuri’s half hard, and Otabek wants nothing more than to make him all the way hard. Have him leaking, and needy, and pressed up against his swollen belly….

“Beka, there’s no way you’re fucking me.” Otabek knew that he was pressing his luck. Yuri’s usually very self-conscious after he eats so much.

Otabek teases Yuri slowly. He cups his cock in his hand, and traces a finger across his balls, and rubs softly at his perineum before working his way back to his cock. “Please, on your side, you wouldn’t have to move at all.”

“Uhm,” Yuri arches into his touch, but does his best to play coy. “No.”

“Suck me off?” and then his other hand is back on Yuri’s stomach rubbing in slow soft circles.

“Too much work.” Yuri says as he does his best to stifle a yawn into the back of his hand. Contradictory to his words, he slithers out of his sweater, and flops back onto the bed completely naked. He thrusts up into Otabek’s hand as he twists it around the head of Yuri’s cock.

Otabek whines, “Yuri,” while freeing his own cock from his pants. He pulls down his sweats, and leaves his sweater on. He disagrees with Yuri, and finds the room quite cold. He gives himself a few fitful pumps before abandoning his cock to touch Yuri’s stomach again. “What about your thighs?”

Now it’s Yuri’s turn to take Otabek’s cock into his hand. He gives him a few slow pumps up and down his length.  He turs to Otabek, and tilts his chin forward so that they can kiss. The kiss is slow, languid, and experimental. When they part, Yuri looks at him with half lidded eyes. The negotiation is over. “Be gentle, I’m sloshy.”

Otabek reaches for the lube that they keep on the nightstand by the bed. He pours some into his hand first, as to not put cold lube directly onto Yuri’s skin. Once deeming it sufficiently warmed, he turns Yuri gently onto his side, and coats the soft place between his thighs with lubricant. The rest, he puts on his cock with a few firm tugs.

Otabek nudges himself into Yuri’s closed thighs, while simultaneously wrapping his hand around his stomach. He presses his fingers back into the soft flesh, and he fucks into Yuri’s closed thighs with a certain sense of satisfaction that he did this. He made food so good that Yuri, St. Petersburg’s best home chef, ate so much food that he was stuffed.

“MMhmmmm, Beka,” Yuri purrs, and the sound is deliciously close to the one that Yuri makes whenever he bites into something tasty. Yuri scoots his ass closer to Otabek which means he can get a better hold of Yuri’s stomach. “Like your desert?”

“Hm,” Otabek grunts in response as he fucks into the silken smoothness of Yuri’s thighs. “Really, good,” he says between mouthing hot little marks onto Yuri’s neck, and shoulder and smelling the soft citrus scent of his shampoo. He loves Yuri. He loves everything about Yuri.  

“Close?” Yuri asks, and Otabek can feel Yuri’s hand move just below where he greedily holds onto Yuri’s belly.

For a moment, all Otabek can do is hold his breath and listen to the soft slip of skin against skin, and Yuri’s pitchy, uneven little half moans. “Beka,” Yuri cries his name and tenses, and in an instant Otabek knows that he’s come. It takes him just a few more thrusts before he’s spilling onto Yuri’s thighs.

* * *

“Beka,” Yuri looks up at him with one eye open. True to form, Yuri fell asleep right after he came. Usually he stays asleep until morning, but now, it’s 11:30 and he’s poking Otabek in the side while he looks over an ebook on human anatomy. “Now I want desert.”

 “Go get me some ice cream.”

Otabek hasn’t even bothered to put pants back on since they fooled around. He’s sat half naked underneath the comforter, interrupted from his reading only by Potya and Yuri’s soft snores. He certainly isn’t going to do it now.  “I think you still have some cookies in the kitchen.” It’s difficult to say. Otabek got confused and angry looking at case studies last night and had to eat away some of his feelings.

“I don’t want that,” Yuri lazily rolls over and plucks his tablet from his hand. “Don’t wanna get up either.” Then, in the only way that Yuri can be simultaneously unsexy and very sexy at the same time, he all but buries his face in Otabek’s crotch. He’s mouthing at the tip of his cock and teasing him from complete disinterest to full hardness. “I want this.” Yuri says propping himself up on one hand. “Less calories. Tastes better too.”

 


	4. Dessert

“Happy birthday, to you,” Yuri constantly makes him feel like he’s living in a dream, but this time is especially surreal. The alarm clock by his bed reads 8:03, at least he thinks it does. Everything looks like it has a thin film over it, blurry and distorted. Then, in the middle of his field of vision is Yuri dressed in his favorite periwinkle lace nightie, and carrying a round layered birthday cake.

“Happy birthday, to you,” Yuri’s speaking voice is low and gravelly when he speaks, as if he’s constantly trying to project his own voice and make himself sound louder and rougher than he actually is. While he sings, he sounds husky, sultry. The cake has big blue frosting roses on it, which are surrounded by dainty mint green colored leaves made of frosting. It has a matching blue border, which match the lace and the satin of Yuri’s nightie that rides high on his hips and barely covers his ass. In the middle of the cake, a single candle. In cursive blue icing, it reads, “Happy Birthday, Otabek.”

“Happy birthday dear Beka.” Yuri drops into bed next to him, and kisses him square on the mouth.  Yuri smudges the shell pattern border of the frosting with his index finger, and presents it to his mouth. Otabek accepts it immediately, and licks the frosting off. He brushes the pad of Yuri’s thumb across his tongue. Immediately, he tries to take the digit deeper into his mouth, but Yuri disagrees. “Nuh-huh. You gotta blow out your candle.”

“Okay.” So, Otabek closes his eyes and makes a wish. It’s very simple. He hopes that none of this is a dream, and that he can keep having Yuri. “So, do I get a piece now?” he says hotly into Yuri’s ear. Nibbling at his earlobe, he makes it abundantly clear that he isn’t talking about a slice of the cake.

“Not yet,” Yuri says. “I have one more gift. C’mon,” Yuri stands up abruptly. The fabric of his night gown doesn’t fall back down around his hips. Instead, Otabek is taunted with the wonderful sight of Yuri’s ass trapped in matching periwinkle lace.

This very well may be his last birthday, because Yuri could kill him.

Yuri leads him into the kitchen. “I gotta fuckin do this where we can clean up, yanno.”

Otabek does not know. Unless….There was absolutely no way that Yuri was that willing to indulge him. Although, he did complain audibly complain the other day that most of the videos that he watched were hosted by _women_ , and then Yuri spent the better part of the night breathing hotly down his neck while they watched a German woman sink her six inch stilettos into a layer cake.

“I don’t have any heels though,” Yuri says with a toothy grin. God, he has the best boyfriend ever.

Yuri sets the cake onto their kitchen table. It’s usually covered in junk. Yuri then sits on the edge of the table and hoists himself up onto it, and in that moment, Otabek realizes that he’s already half hard.

“Okay, birthday boy. Sit down,” Yuri gestures to one of the chairs that Yuri pulled out. Otabek sits down, and the chair scrapes loudly against the linoleum. Yuri is only inches away, and it takes every ounce of self control that he has to not simply latch onto Yuri. He looks like the best meal, sitting on the table with his feet inches away from the cake.

Otabek is already palming his cock through his boxers because he just can’t wait. He strokes the side of Yuri’s hips, and feels the silken soft fabric.  The temptation is just too great.

“Remember to breathe babe,” Yuri flashes him a cocky grin when he doesn’t respond right away. Yuri’s got a hair tie caught between his teeth, and he grabs up his hair in order to put it into a messy bun.

“Yuri,” and it comes out as a whine although Otabek _wanted_ to give as much as he got. Wanted to sound sexy for Yuri.

“Ready?” Yuri says with a smile.

“Please.”

Yuri slowly raises a foot. He hovers over the sheet cake. “You can see right?”

“Right,” Otabek has a great view. He’ll be able to see the way the frosting squishes through his toes. He’ll be able to see the way the sides of the cake give with his weight.

Yuri hovers over it, and then moves his foot as if he’s going to stomp the cake. Then, he retreats by faking Otabek out.

The sound that Otabek makes is loud and undignified.  “Yuri, stop teasing.”

“Alright, birthday boy,” and then he sinks his foot into the thick blue and white frosting. The sides of the cake bulge out against the pressure, and the perfect tiered layer cake is effectively ruined by Yuri’s beautiful toes. Yuri raises his foot and the frosting sticks to his feet along with smashed bits of cake. Yuri repeats the action with his other foot.

Otabek gasps when Yuri dislodges one foot from the smashed mess and waves it under his nose. “You wanna taste?”

Otabek touches lightly at his ankle. He does. Badly.

“Not yet,” Yuri says with a laugh.

So, Otabek will have to settle for the second best option. He pulls his underwear down and grips his cock in his hand again as he watches Yuri crush the second half of the cake. He scoots forward along the table on his butt. The nightie is rucked higher, and Otabek can see Yuri’s bulge peeking out from his lace underwear.

That’s one of the many beautiful things about Yuri. Even if he doesn’t understand why Otabek likes something, Yuri seems to get turned on by turning Otabek on.

Yuri smashes the rest of the cake, but he isn’t finished yet. He sinks his toes back into the mess, and continues to mix the bits of frosting into the cake, turning it into one large puddle of thick icing. 

Otabek jerks himself off slowly as he watches, knowing well enough that the very best is yet to come. “What does the frosting feel like?”

“Really sticky,” Yuri says just as Otabek is giving himself a squeeze. “Thick.”

“Oh fuck,” Otabek stammers out. “Yuri.”

“Do you want it to get messy?” He asks already knowing the answer.

“God yes,” Otabek responds.

He’s rewarded with Yuri dragging his feet through the cake and onto the table smearing icing everywhere. He does this with his other foot until the frosting mixture is dispersed across the table, and Yuri’s feet and ankles are covered in frosting. Each time Yuri stomps into the cake, it makes a sticky squelching noise that sounds absolutely _obscene_ and shoots straight to his cock.

“Get on your knees Beka,” Yuri says softly. “It’s time for your treat.”

Otabek complies, and pushes the chair out and sinks to his knees. Yuri moves so that he’s still seated upon the table, but his feet dangle off of the edge. Otabek waits for further instruction.

“You can unwrap me, but no touching. Not until after you eat your desert.”

Otabek loops a finger underneath the thin edge of Yuri’s panties and pulls them downward. Yuri braces himself on the table with his hands, and cants upward just enough that Otabek can free his cock. The lace underwear stay bunched up between his thighs, and Otabek thinks that’s just fine. He disregards Yuri’s instruction for a moment, and kisses the tip of Yuri’s cock lapping at the precome that’s pooled at the tip. He did say to eat his desert after all.

“Naughty boy, Beka,” Yuri purrs.

“It’s my birthday,” he supplies simply. And he smiles at Yuri and bites his lip in the kind of way that he knows makes Yuri melt. It makes up for the fact that his hands shake as he takes Yuri’s ankle into his hand. It makes up for the fact that he’s worried that he won’t look sexy at all while licking Yuri’s feet.

Otabek licks a long stripe from the ball of Yuri’s feet where there is barely any frosting at all, to the tip of his big toe, which is covered in a white gray mixture of blue, green, and white frosting.

Otabek pulls back for a moment, and locks eyes with Yuri. Yuri’s eyes are half-lidded, and he’s wearing a big relaxed grin that he so rarely gets to see between smirks, scowls, and Yuri’s general feelings of displeasure. Yuri looks completely blissed out, which is strange because it’s _such_ an indulgent thing for Otabek and Otabek alone. Otabek doesn’t question it. Instead, he takes Yuri’s big toe into his mouth completely and rolls his tongue across the underside. He moves onto the soft webbing between his toes licking it clean completely.

Yuri giggles. “That tickles, Beka.”

“You like it,” Otabek hums and nods to Yuri’s hand which is now loosely clenched around his cock.

“Hm,” Yuri agrees, and nudges his toes back to Otabek.

Otabek takes each toe into his mouth next. He pulls off of each one with a loud pristine pop. He loves watching the toes going from messy and frosting covered to clean pink skin, accented only by the pale green polish that he painted Yuri’s toes with last week. He likes the way that frosting gets trapped in the little wrinkles in his toes, and he has give Yuri’s toes extra attention whenever that happens.

“Do you like your cake?” Yuri asks when Otabek has cleaned off Yuri’s right foot, and has moved onto his left.

“It is really good Yuri,” Otabek admits. He leans back ever so slightly from the table so that Yuri can look down and see his now aching cock. Then, he goes back to lapping at the frosting on Yuri’s feet. The mixture of cake and frosting crushed together is sickly sweet, but against Yuri’s skin, it tastes amazing. Whenever a patch of Yuri’s foot is cleaned off, Otabek kisses the wet patch of spit shined skin, because he loves Yuri.

Reluctantly, Otabek laps away the last large blob of frosting on Yuri’s foot. It’s on the ball of his foot, and he kisses the skin there several times, because he’s not yet ready to finish worshiping Yuri’s body. He’s also not been instructed on what to do next, and he’s almost certain that Yuri has a plan. “I love you Yuri,” he says softly between kisses.

“Love you too,” Yuri responds. “We should trade spots so I can blow you.”

Otabek’s cock twitches at the sentiment, but… “I’d wanted to blow you,” and it comes off far more needy and far more whiney than he’d ever anticipated.

“Hm,” Yuri considers it for a moment. “I should give you what you want? Cause it’s your birthday?” Yuri’s words are thick on his tongue, like he’s drunk with lust and power. In that instant Otaek knows he isn’t going to get _exactly_ what he wants.

“You should,” Otabek suggests.

Yuri scoots off of the table, and stands on shaky legs. Otabek holds him steady.

“You can get rid of my underwear,” Yuri says dryly.

They’re still bunched around his thighs from when Otabek freed his cock earlier. He takes the lace into his mouth and drags them down Yuri’s legs, lets go, and watches Yuri step out of them daintily. Yuri then peels the night gown away from his skin so that he’s totally naked in front of Otabek. Yuri reaches behind him onto the table, and takes a handful of the ruined cake.

He smears it across his chest, down his torso, and onto his thighs.  “Everywhere there’s cake,” he instructs Otabek firmly.

Yuri is so cruel to Otabek. Yuri is so good to Otabek. He rocks up onto his haunches and laps at Yuri’s chest. Yuri smeared the frosting across his collar bones, and his nipples which were one of his favorite spots on Yuri’s body.

Yuri moans into him when he sucks hard on the nipple and keeps lavishing attention on them long after the frosting is cleared away. Otabek refuses to move on until his nipples are red and overstimulated, because Yuri is so good to him, and so mean to him that he has to repay this kind of affection in kind.

Then, he trails his tongue down Yuri’s chest and his stomach. He takes great care to enjoy the dip of his sternum, and the soft skin of his belly, and the hard lines of his hips and the v which trails down to his cock. He makes sure to nip and to bite, and leave little marks that he’ll be able to see on Yuri for the rest of the day when they inevitably laze in bed for hours on end.

Finally, Otabek moves onto the cake and frosting smeared onto his thighs. It’s absolutely maddening to lap at the skin this close to his cock and not to touch. Otabek could disobey, but Yuri has the worst ways of getting back at him when this happens.

Yuri threads his fingers into Otabek’s hair, and makes the best noises when he suckles softly on the skin near Yuri’s cock. He makes sure to breathe onto it, but never take it into his mouth. From the way that Yuri moans, and the way that he bites his lip, and the way that his eyes flutter open and shut, open and shut, it’s easy to see that Yuri is quickly losing control of the situation.

“Otabek,” Yuri sobs. “Otabek, I have an idea,” which of course was when Yuri was at his most dangerous. “How we can both get what we want,” but of course he never says, “no” to Yuri, especially when he’s this desperate.

Otabek lays on his side on the floor, and yellow linoleum tile feels cool against his hip. The physical discomfort of laying down on the kitchen floor, alongside the psychological discomfort (how long has it been since they’ve swept?) is abated by the fact that he finally gets to suck Yuri’s cock.

Yuri lays opposite to him on the floor. His head ends up near Otabek’s cock and his feet near his head.  Yuri takes as much of him into his mouth as he can immediately. Yuri can only tease for so long and then he’s relentless, forceful even. That’s evident in the way that Yuri drinks him down and does not come up for air.

Otabek’s approach is different. He kneads the firm flesh of Yuri’s ass, and laps lightly at the tip of his cock just like it’s another icing covered part of Yuri’s body. It produces the desired response. While gagging on his cock, Yuri moans something garbled and unintelligible. If Otabek had to guess, it would be something like, “Beka stop teasing.”

So, Otabek obeys. He takes as much of Yuri into his mouth as he can, and he becomes completely lost in the endless circle of pleasure that he’s created. The muscles of Yuri’s throat constrict around his cock. Otabek bobs up and down Yuri’s cock, and jerks him off with a firm hand whenever he cannot take him in all the way.

All too soon there’s nothing between them but the sounds of lips smacking against cock: popping noises and deep guttural grunts. It doesn’t take long at all for Otabek to come into Yuri’s mouth. He doesn’t even have to warn him it’s coming anymore, because he knows that Yuri will drink it right up.

Otabek doesn’t revel in the afterglow. He knows that his birthday has just begun, and Yuri will certainly lead to his undoing several more times. He grasps at the opportunity to tease Yuri again, even if it is only for the few fast minutes between their mutual orgasms.

He nudges his finger downwards, towards Yuri’s mouth. Yuri accepts the finger immediately and coats it in saliva. “Beka,” he moans, because Otabek does not stop sucking through any of this. He brings his hand back up Yuri’s body, and works the single spit covered finger into his hole.

Yuri comes a thick load into his mouth “Fuck, Otabek fuck!” It’s far sweeter than any birthday cake.

Otabek has to scrape Yuri off of the floor. He’s boneless, fucked out, and seemed to enjoy everything just as much, if not more than he did.

“What did you wish for?” Yuri asks with a smirk as Otabek tries to get him into the shower.

“Ah,” Otabek responds testing the water with his fingers. “It already came true.    

**Author's Note:**

> please be imagining yuri and otabek moving in together and otabek feeding him all sorts of foods and rubbing his full tummy.
> 
> hmu on boxwineconfession.tumblr.com


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